


Postpone

by thedreamchaser



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, bad day, changbin centric, he's probably imploding, idk either, lowkey existential crisis, non-famous skiz, they're only there for a second oops, what even is this, yeah that, you know that feeling when you're stuck?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 23:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamchaser/pseuds/thedreamchaser
Summary: There are some things you can't postpone forever. There are some things that will catch up with you.





	Postpone

**Author's Note:**

> ANXIETY/DEPRESSION WARNING - THIS MAY BE TRIGGERING 
> 
> song - Postpone | Catfish and the Bottlemen
> 
> guys i wrote this in like 1 hour bc i was having some whack thoughts and i needed to project i guess, anywho i hope some of you can find solace in the fact that other people go through similar things

Changbin thought a lot. About his life. About his goals. His education. His purpose. 

If you asked him, at any given time, if he was happy, he wouldn't answer. 

There was a reason behind it. 

_Himself._

He wasn't sure when, but his life slowly lost its light. Everything was grey and muted and boring. 

His parents were strict and there wasn't much in life that hadn't been their decision. He attended university, as per their expectation, but he had chosen what he wanted to do. At least that's what he thought. High school Changbin would tell you how much he thought his chosen career was his calling in life, that he was almost  _made_  for it. University Changbin knew it would just be a job, a way to get by or make enough money to temporarily fill his heart. 

Truthfully, he wasn't passionate about anything except music, but that was something he could never pursue. He knew he wasn't good enough to be a performer or a composer or producer. So he pushed it aside and it became a form of therapy for him. 

He knew there was something wrong up there; anxiety, depression, maybe both. But he was too scared to see a psychologist. Because once he was diagnosed, it was real.

He didn't  _want_  to be fucked up.

_It's admitting a flaw. I don't need any more of those._

So he stuck to trying to convince himself he was just having a bad day. He knew it wasn't true, of course, there had been too many of them. 

You know how people described the feeling of blood surging through their veins? Changbin hadn't felt that in a long time. It felt like he wasn't living; he was just filled with thick, heavy lead. 

 

 

There were days when he skipped his lecture because he couldn't bear to get out of bed, even if it was for the sake of passing his classes. It seemed pointless. He would die one day and nothing would matter. 

On the occasions this would happen, he would fake sick because there's no way his parents would let him miss a class because his headspace was acting up. 

_If you couldn't see the sickness, it mustn't be real._

Staying home didn't help him much though. He would sit in bed and get worked up over what he was missing, pushing himself into a deep pit of anxiety until he would almost vomit or pass out or cry. 

He cried a lot lately, he noticed. Sometimes because he was stressed, sometimes because he was tired, sometimes because he felt weak. 

Sometimes when he stared at himself for too long, he could see something in his eyes. They had turned dull, his smile made less of an appearance, his under-eyes were sunken in. He'd lost weight too; not that anyone had noticed. If they had, they didn't mention anything. 

 

 

The closest thing to a remedy, he found, was his friends. They made him smile and laugh and actually like life. They didn't know, of course, but he liked it that way. 

"There's food in front of you." Minho would laugh at the way his bottom lip was always between his teeth, always being attacked by his teeth. It was a bad habit that usually ended up with a swollen or cut lip. He would pull the skin until he tasted the raw metallic taste he was familiar with.

Sometimes Seungmin would through a cautious glance at him. 

"Are you okay?" He whispered not loud enough for anyone else to hear. 

Changbin loved him for noticing and for caring enough to ask. But he wished he didn't. He didn't want him to know. He didn't want him to worry. 

"Mhm, just tired." He pulled his lips into a small smile, blinking slowly to play up his exhaustion. It wasn't exactly a lie; it just wasn't the whole story.  

But his friends lived hours away from him and they had their own studies, so he would only see them a handful of times each year. Without them around, he only left the house to go to classes. 

His sister's boyfriend would softly frown and tell him that he should go explore the city, or watch a movie, or do anything to get out of the house. 

"It's not healthy to stay inside all the time. You're so isolated." He said gently, and even if he laughed and rolled his eyes and told him that he was fine, he knew he was right. It was confronting that someone who just saw him a couple of times each week, someone he didn't even talk to, was able to see through him. 

It wasn't even something his sister had verbalized. He hated the sympathetic nods his sister gave him when he expressed his feelings. He loved his sister, she was understanding and supportive, mostly because she would often experience the same thing. Sometimes he wondered if he had picked it up from someone. Both his mother and sister had struggled with depression and anxiety for over a decade. 

It was a disgusting thought; as if his own problems could be blamed on those he loved. It only made him hate himself more. 

 

 

Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if he died or disappeared one day. Sometimes he wished for it. Except he couldn't do that to his family. Leaving them would only inflict pain onto his family. 

Maybe Changbin would never be able to confront himself. He would just have to live with it. 

There are some things you can't postpone forever. There are some things that will catch up with you. 

One day, they did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> whoops this is kinda emo
> 
> the ending is v v v vague so just uh,, use your imagination ?? i was thinking it means his mental health deteriorates 
> 
> also feel free to correct my grammar or spelling
> 
> ily thanks for reading!


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